A Love That Won't Sit Still
by AllusionToAnIllusion
Summary: She doesn't want to keep her love locked up in a cage anymore. It's banging on the bars and she finds that she doesn't want it to quiet down. She's ready.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** This is set a couple weeks before 47 Seconds. Basically, that's all you need to know. _

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><p><em>This sudden burst of sunlight and me with my umbrella<em>

_Cross indexing every weatherman's report_

_I was ready for the down slide but not for spring to well up_

_This feeling calls for everything I can't afford to know is possible now_

"Stray Italian Greyhound" - Vienna Teng

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><p>She brings her thumb up to her mouth, chewing lightly on the nail as she stares at her phone. She doesn't need to call Lanie. She'll be fine. She's just thinking too much. She knows she shouldn't let her thoughts get too far ahead of her, has to keep them corralled because otherwise she'll ruin it. It's what she does. She ruins things. But–<p>

–But what if her thoughts are right this time?

What if they're only warning her? She could end up with a broken heart. It can't last. Nothing lasts. Why should this? She needs to get a grip on her heart before it convinces her otherwise because she _knows_ that this is a horrible idea. She can't go down this path. She can't–

–Can't what? Let herself be happy?

She really needs to call Lanie. Picking up the phone, she dials the familiar number and continues pacing her apartment as she presses the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" Lanie practically snarls into the phone. Oh, so she's interrupted something.

"Oh, sorry, Lanie. Should I call back later?" Really, she can keep herself calm until then. She can keep herself from tearing down everything she's built. Maybe.

"Kate Beckett, you have the worst timing," she mentally scoffs because, really, Lanie has no idea, "but you sound like you're going to hyperventilate any minute now so spill."

"What am I doing, Lanie?" Running a hand through her hair, she stops pacing in front of her couch. She looks up only to come face to face with her shelves, _his_ books lining an entire section, and groans before plopping down on the couch.

"Kate, you called me." That's all it takes. The dam breaks.

"It's just that he's my partner and there are so many ways that it could break, you know? There are too many ways for it to go wrong. We're complete opposites, Lanie. I don't know how the hell I convinced myself that we'd work but there's no way we will." She's talking so quickly she can barely understand herself and she knows she should really slow down and explain because there's no way Lanie can help her if this is all she has to work with. But her heart is beating too fast and her mind is racing and _oh God why does she do this to herself?_

"Kate!" She stops talking, sucking in much needed air. "Slow down. Take a deep breath. What brought this on?" She makes herself relax, uncurling her toes and relaxing her shoulders that have somehow become level with her ears. She just sits there for a moment and breathes, knowing Lanie will wait until she's ready. This seems to be a theme with her.

"I'm scared." When she does speak, she's surprised that her voice is so quiet. As if it was supposed to be some big secret that the invincible Kate Beckett gets scared, that she has fears and insecurities just like everyone else.

"Of what?" Lanie's whispering too, as if she doesn't want to spook her. And as much as she hates to admit it, it probably wouldn't take much for her to turn and run right now.

"I don't know." There's silence on the other end of the line but that doesn't mean she can't picture Lanie's raised eyebrow, calling her bullshit.

"We both know that's not true." She's suddenly glad she called Lanie. She's nowhere near as good at calling herself on all of her shit. This is good. This is progress. No matter how terrifying it is to finally voice all of these things to someone other than Dr. Burke. Someone who's seen her and Castle in action, someone who's seen them conquer and sometimes fall victim to the many trials of the last few years.

"Losing him." She licks her lips and lets the tip of her index finger fall to her wineglass, tracing the glass rim. "I'm afraid that if we start something it'll end badly and then I'll lose him. I won't have him as any part of my life, Lanie." Taking a sip of the wine, she voices the thought that's been running around in her head all night. "Would it just be better to never be something more? I mean, I'd never have to risk it."

"And what happens when he gets tired of just friends? That man is crazy about you. You can't just expect him to sit by your side and try to control his feelings forever." She takes a sip of wine because, goddamn, Lanie has a point and she just wants it all to go away. She just wants to be happy with him. She wants to make memories with him. If only it weren't so complicated.

"It would be just as hard for me, Lanie." Her careful control is already slipping, that rope she tied around her waist long ago to keep herself from running toward him is slowly fraying.

"Then is that fair to either of you?" No. Damn it, it's not.

"I'm not sure I could do it anyway. My control is already slipping." It's not her fault. It's really not. It's him. It's his hands and his eyes and his biceps and oh, his words. It's completely his fault and she absolutely hates the fact that she can't bring herself to hate him for it.

"Excuse me? Kate Beckett, you better fill me in right now."

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><p>She runs her fingers over the spines of his books as he rifles through his desk, looking for something that she can't help with because <em>it's a surprise, Beckett<em>. "I can't believe you don't like _The Great Gatsby_! It's a classic! I am offended for Fitzgerald."

"I can't believe you have so little Hemingway. That has to be a crime. I could arrest you, Castle." She pauses at his extensive collection of Poe, scans the titles for a moment, moves on.

"I never thought I'd say it, Beckett, but you've lost some hotness." She laughs at that, throwing her head back because she just had a late dinner with his family and, damn it, she's just happy. She turns, leaning against the shelves and crossing her arms. She's lost some hotness, huh? She licks her lips; he swallows heavily.

"'The breeze, the breath of God, is still, and the mist upon the hill shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken, is a symbol and a token. How it hangs upon the trees, a mystery of mysteries!'" His mouth drops open and she smirks, raising an eyebrow in challenge. But she doesn't quite know what the challenge is, what she's daring him to do. All she knows is that it can't be a good idea because his eyes are growing dark and she's just realizing that her breathing is speeding up. Fortunately, he seems to regain control before she does.

"You–you just quoted Poe. I take it back. You're hot as hell." She grins, turning back to his shelves – his enormous collection of everything from classics to comics – and begins to scan again as he resumes looking for whatever the surprise is. "Oh! That's where I put it!" She turns around just as he disappears into his room. She's not sure if she's supposed to follow or not, if he's expecting her to come and see the surprise or if he's bringing it to her. She's never been in his bedroom before – though she's had some dreams that involved his bedroom in vivid detail. She's curious. What harm could it do? She just wants to know.

It's masculine. She didn't really expect otherwise, but it still hits her. It's nothing like the bachelor pad she pictured him having those first few years. It's warm, strong, and, well, she can't deny that it's welcoming. Oh so welcoming. She tears her eyes away from the large black and white print of elephants when she hears his exclamations of triumph. He grabs a book from a shelf on his bedside table and stands up. Once he turns around the grin falls from his face, shock immediately taking its place.

"Kate." Move, Kate. Go back into the office. Don't just stand here at the foot of his bed. "Uh, I found it." His voice is lower than usual and she steps closer. Oh, she's in trouble.

"Oh?" She can't even form full sentences. Yeah, this little trip to his bedroom sure was harmless. What was she thinking?

"Mhm." He holds out the book, still close enough to his body that she has to come closer to reach it. When she takes the book, her fingers brush his and, damn it, they linger. She can't be doing this. Not now. She looks at the book, tries to get herself under control. It doesn't help.

"_Odes to Opposites_." She looks back up at him because there has to be a message in this. She's no fool. She knows their relationship runs on subtext. There has to be something here.

"I thought you'd like Pablo Neruda. That one's my favorite." He doesn't elaborate any further. She doesn't know if it's because he doesn't have anything else to say or because they're standing much too close next to his bed.

"Thanks." It would be so easy to just reach out, to just touch him. "I'll give it back on Monday." She clenches her hands into fists to keep them by her side. She looks down and sees that Castle is doing the same.

"No rush. Take your time, Kate." _Kate._ Her eyes race back up to his, her breath caught in her throat because he _knows_ this is a horrible time to use her first name. Or the perfect time. She can't quite decide. She opens her mouth, to say what she doesn't know, but the words never make it past her lips.

"Richard! Have you seen my wallet? I'm going out for drinks and I can't find it anywhere!" They jump apart, practically at opposite sides of the room by the time Martha waltzes in. "Really Richa–oh, Kate, I didn't know you were still here."

"Uh, yeah, Castle was just letting me borrow a book." She clutches the book to her chest, giving Martha a small nod before walking a little too quickly to be discreet out into the living room. Out into the open where everyone can see. Nothing can happen out here. Not with Alexis over there watching TV and Martha padding along right behind her. She's not sure if she's relieved or disappointed. She's surprised that the uncertainty doesn't scare her.

"Found your wallet, Grams! It was in between the couch cushions." Martha hurries over to Alexis, grabbing the wallet and giving her a quick hug before heading for the door.

"Bye, dears! Don't wait up." She's out the door before anyone can respond, a blur of vibrancy and pure energy. She has to say, she hopes she's as energetic as Martha when she's that age.

"My mother has more of a social life than I do." He makes his way over to the refrigerator, pulling out two glasses before she shakes her head and he puts one back.

"You choose to spend your time with dead people, Castle." She rests her hip against the counter, still clutching the book of odes to her chest. She doesn't want to put it down. She doesn't know why but it feels good right there, pressing against her heart. He pours water, not really paying attention to the conversation.

"No, I choose to spend my time with you." She gasps, tightening her arms around the book. He's never come this close to saying it – well, when she wasn't about to die. He's never told her that it's not the cases but her that keeps him there. She feels her chest constrict but it's not fear. She finds that she doesn't want him to take it back. She looks anywhere but at him and shifts because if she keeps her eyes on his she's going to do something stupid. She's going to hurtle them over the careful line she's drawn. She's not sure what's stopping her: not being ready or Alexis in the next room.

"Uh," he seems to mistake her inability to stand still as panic, "didn't you say you had to meet Lanie at 10:00?" He's giving her an out. That sweet, considerate, stupid man.

"Yeah, I should get going." She doesn't want to. God, she doesn't want to leave. But she actually does have to meet Lanie soon and she knows traffic will not work in her favor on a Saturday night. "But I'll see you Monday?" It's not really a question. She knows he'll show up. He always does. It's just nice to hear him confirm it.

"Just like always." They've made their way to the door, her leaning against the doorframe while he holds it open. She really doesn't want to leave. She looks up at him, absolutely sure that a stupid smile is plastered on her face but she doesn't really care because there's one on his too.

"See you Monday." She turns to leave but she feels his hand on her wrist, pulling her back into his doorway. "Cas–" The rest of his name gets stuck somewhere in her throat because he's leaning in and his lips are so close to hers and his kid is right there but she doesn't even care because _finally_. Only his lips don't touch hers, coming to rest against her cheek for much too short a moment before he pulls away.

"See you Monday." His voice is rougher than usual and her heart stirs at the sound, squirming around in her chest.

"Mhm." It sounds much more like a squeak than she'd like it to but at least something came out of her mouth. His eyes twinkle and she narrows her eyes because _damn _him, he knows exactly what he's doing. She has to force herself to turn around and walk down the hall when all she wants to do is press her lips to his and take him back into his bedroom. She is so in trouble.

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><p>"So you're telling me we met for drinks thirty minutes after that happened and you decide to tell me now?" That's not exactly what she'd expected Lanie to latch onto. But she has to give her credit because it's the first time she's interrupted. Even if she wasn't exactly done with the story.<p>

"He marked a page, Lanie." As she says it she looks down at the book of odes still sitting on her coffee table two weeks later because she can't bring herself to give it back. She reaches over to pick it up and flips to the page, fingertips running over the title. "Ode to a secret love."

"It's not exactly a secret, Kate." But they pretend it is. They both pretend they don't know that they feel it. She's tired of locking it up. It wants out. It wants laughter and sunshine and him.

"I think that's what I'm really scared of." She uses her finger to trace the words of the ode like she's done so many times, letting it reassure her. This is good. This is right.

"What?" Lanie sounds so hopeful, as if she's privy to a breakthrough. And maybe that's what this is. But she's always thought of breakthroughs as sudden. She finds that she's known this for a while, that it was a slow burn to the point of realization.

"Love." She grabs her wine glass, taking a sip as she closes the book. "Being in love."

"Aren't we all?" She chuckles because she's no stranger to Lanie's issues with marriage and commitment. She supposes everyone has their thing, that one thing that absolutely terrifies them when it comes to romance.

"I've been telling myself that I don't know how to be in love, Lanie. I've been so scared that I'll ruin it that I've been trying to control it. But I don't want to control it anymore. I wanna set it free." She's surprised at how right the words feel leaving her lips. She wants to set it free, wants to set herself free. Her heart is pumping a staccato beat against her ribcage and she's been trying to get it to quiet down for so long but now all she wants to do is embrace it.

"Wait, are you gonna tell him?" She can tell Lanie is on the verge of squealing but is keeping her cool for the sake of getting an answer.

"Yeah, I'm going to tell him." She's going to tell him she loves him. She's going to tell Castle that she loves him. She doesn't even try to repress the embarrassingly big smile that spreads across her lips. Somewhere on the other end of the line she hears a sound that's probably a hybrid between a scream and a squeal.

"I'm so proud of you, Kate. Just don't wait too long, okay?" Lanie chuckles, muttering something along the lines of _sure took her damn time_. She bites her lip, trying to get a handle on her giant grin before giving up and letting it run wild.

"I won't. I just have to find the right time to tell him."

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><p><em>What do I do, do I do with a love that won't sit still<em>

_Won't do what it's told_

_What do I do, do I do with a love that won't sit still_

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><p><em>If anyone is interested, I'll post the song and the ode on my Tumblr (go to my profile for the link). <em>

_Review? _


	2. Chapter 2

_Because I'm daphnebeauty's bitch. _

_Now I know what I said before but I honestly didn't plan on continuing this story so forget what I said about 47 Seconds taking place a few weeks later. It doesn't take place at all. Doesn't exist. Never happens._

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><p><em>Time passed,<em>

_and each day the six o'clock news_

_washed ashore debris from a wrecked world_

_far away from us._

Jimmy Santiago Baca

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><p>She's overcome with it, her love.<p>

Lanie left a few hours ago but it continues to fill her up, trickle into her fingers and find its way into her toes. It's everywhere, assaulting her from every angle. Both her body and mind are moving a mile a minute – her thoughts whirring, her legs twitching, her heart stuttering. She bites her lip, trying to keep the grin at bay. She knows she'll lose that particular battle, her cheeks hurt from smiling so much tonight that it would take a miracle to keep this smile away.

She just–

She just loves him and it feels so good to be able to admit it to someone. Even if it's not him.

Soon, Kate. Soon.

She stands up, paces the room as she chews on her lip. She needs to calm down. She needs to calm down or she's going to run to his loft, burst through his door, throw her arms around his neck and whisper _I love you I love you I love you_ into his ear. It's not her fault. Her mind is racing with it, her blood singing it. _I love you I love you I love you. _

She wasn't expecting such an onslaught of the feeling when the time came, wasn't prepared for her heart to call out for him with every pump. But it's sufficiently late and she hasn't eaten yet so she can ignore the way her body is responding for the moment. Yes, that's what she can focus on. Just not him. She'll be fine if she can keep her mind otherwise occupied until tomorrow.

Damn, she's telling him she loves him tomorrow. She feels a pang of fear somewhere in her gut but is surprised to find that the newfound speed of her heart's drumbeat is mostly due to delicious anticipation.

In the meantime, she'll distract herself with pasta and a glass of wine. But like most of her plans regarding Castle, it doesn't work. She spends most of her time staring at the book of odes he'd given her, letting herself draw courage and affection from it. It's then that it hits her, as she's pouring the pasta into a bowl. She knows the when, the why, the what, and most definitely the who. But she doesn't know the how. While her pasta cools she peruses her bookshelves, searching for something unassuming and yet somehow good enough for the job.

And then she finds it, a thin collection of poems she'd picked up at a used bookstore a couple of years ago. She scans the poem she needs, a soft smile gracing her lips at the memory of the first time she read it. She always wanted someone to read it with, read it to.

Now she has that someone.

Grabbing a highlighter, she sits back down at her kitchen island and takes a bite of her pasta. Uncapping the highlighter with her teeth, she lets her lips close around the cap as she focuses on the prose. She only needs a few words. They've never needed many anyway.

When she's done she recaps the highlighter and looks down at her work, an unexpected fluttering rising up in her chest. She thinks that she should start to expect it. It seems to be becoming a regular thing. Completely giving up on controlling her smiles, she marks the page and closes the book.

She hopes he gets it.

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><p>She stops him before they part ways outside the precinct that night, a hand on his arm to stop him as he reluctantly turns. God, she hopes reluctantly. She sure as hell knows she doesn't want to leave. But she has to, has to give him the book and walk down the street without his warmth at her side. It may just be the coward's way but she wants him to be alone for this, wants him to work it out on his own. It's what he did with her, right?<p>

It'll be his turn soon enough.

"I, uh, I have something for you." The way she had worked it out in her head she had been a bit more confident, a little more nonchalant, but this will have to do. He'll know why later.

"You got me a present, Detective?" Castle's face lights up even as he teases her, his eyes betraying his joy. "It's not even my birthday."

"Oh, shut up," she swats his chest even as she reaches into her bag, "it's just a book."

"I'm a writer. It's never _just _a book." She looks up at him, all excited and trying to sneak a peek at the cover as she holds it to her chest. Damn it, it's adorable. His eyes are wide and bluer than she remembers them being in days, the lure of good literature bringing out an anticipation she can't help but have a soft spot for. She's gonna have to remember that one and avoid it.

"Calm down, Castle, it's from my bookshelf." The light in his eyes doesn't dim.

"Even better." She raises an eyebrow at him as she hands the book over, suddenly wrought with nervousness and a case of clammy hands. He's not going to open it now, Kate. Calm down. "Ooh, Baca. I've heard of him but I haven't gotten a chance to check him out. You giving me poetry because you still haven't given me back my Neruda?" She ducks her head, running a hand through her hair and letting out a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, about that–"

"Keep it as long as you want, Kate." _As long as it takes._

"Yeah?" She looks up at him, sure that her eyes are far too hopeful for so mundane a conversation. But they've always worked beneath the surface, deep in the shadowy layers of subtext.

"Yeah." He throws her a smile and a tilt of his head before he seems to remember something. "Oh, I promised Alexis I'd have dinner with her so I have to run but I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mhm, see you tomorrow." She watches him walk away, hailing a cab with the book clutched tightly in his fist. She closes her eyes and then he's gone, one of many in the sea of yellow cabs.

Your move, Castle.

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><p>There's a knock on her door late that night. She knows who it is the moment she hears the rap against her door.<p>

There's only one person it could be.

She swings open the door and there he is already invading her personal space, must've had his face practically pressed up against her door. But he doesn't move, just stands there in her doorway and breathes. Finally, he breathes her name.

"Kate." Everything is behind it, four years and near death experiences and coffee and love.

"Hey, Castle." She's not sure how she's managed to speak when she can't find the air to breathe.

"Kate, did you–do you–" He doesn't seem to be faring much better.

"Castle?" She prompts, grabbing his wrist and dragging him into her apartment because this was never a conversation she wanted to have in her doorway. Her hand drifts down to his and she notices that he has something clenched in his fist. She looks down at her hand resting on the mystery object, gasping when she realizes it's the book. "Yeah, Castle?"

"Do you mean it, Kate? Because you need to mean it." Oh, she does. Oh, Castle, she means it. His eyes are so hopeful but there's something resigned about them, as if he's not quite letting himself believe it. As if–

Oh. He needs her to say it.

"Yes. Oh God, yes." All she sees is blue, his face so close to hers that his eyes are all she can see. "I mean it. I love you."

His lips are on hers before she can convince him further, his hands cradling her face as he kisses her. She can feel the pages of the book rustling against her cheek and she smiles into it, darting her tongue out to touch the corner of his mouth. It hits her that he's worshipping her, reverently caressing her lips with his as he strokes her cheeks with his thumbs. Oh, how she loves this amazing man. When they break, they're both grinning like the fools that they are. There's no more hiding it.

"Mmm, new favorite poem." She laughs, free and full-bodied and in love. Taking the book from his hand, she tosses it onto her couch before taking his hand and running her thumb over it.

"I'm pretty fond of the Neruda one myself." He's taken to playing with her earlobe and she thinks that it's a spot he'll come to like. She can see herself waking up to him playing with it, biting it, licking it–

"Where'd you go, Kate?" His raised eyebrow tells her he knows exactly where she went. The fact that he's only concentrated more energy on the earlobe tells her he likes her thinking. She grins at him, leading him over to her shelves.

"C'mon, I'm in the mood to read." There are so many things she wants him to know, too many things she doesn't know how to express. She'll read them to him.

"You just want to hear the sexy timbre of my voice read you a bedtime story." He crowds her as they walk, pushing up against her back and pressing a kiss to her neck as she stops in front her bookshelves.

"Mmm, that could be it."

"Really?"

"No." She looks back at him to find him pouting, lets out a quick bark of laughter before turning back to their selection. "Come on, Castle, let's find new ways to say I love you."

* * *

><p><em>I played my guitar and sang you songs<em>

_tossing the words, _I love you_,_

_my life-savings, I had saved so long,_

_into the white foamy hours spent with you–_

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><p><em>You can all thank daphnebeauty for her talent for pestering and begging. If it weren't for here, you definitely wouldn't have this. But now I can definitely say that this story is 100% complete. There is no more. That's the end. <em>

_Review? It would mean the world to me. _


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